


He Just Needed a Hot Drink and a Rose Cuddle

by lauraxtennant



Series: Ten/Rose Collection 2013 [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraxtennant/pseuds/lauraxtennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is ill. He wouldn't mind, if only Rose would look after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Just Needed a Hot Drink and a Rose Cuddle

"Last of the Time Lords? Oncoming Storm?" she reminded him. "And you're making all this fuss over nothing! I'd've thought you'd try and ignore it, pretend someone else is sneezing every ten seconds. But you genuinely are feeling terribly sorry for yourself, aren't you?"

He growled at her. "Rose! I'm not making a fuss about nothing!"

"It's just a cold, Doctor," Rose sighed.

"It bloody isn't!" he protested, sniffing despondently. "I'm dying!"

"Men," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she swiftly turned and left his room.

The Doctor stared after her like a little lost puppy. Why had she gone and left him? He wasn't well! He needed a nice hot drink and Rose.

He sank down on his bed with a deep, depressed sigh, lying back against his pillows. His hand flexed uselessly and he felt very cold. He needed either a warm hand to hold or a warm body to cuddle; preferably both. Preferably Rose. Well, only Rose. Why had she deserted him in his hour of need? He looked after her every single time that time of the month rolled around, providing her with chocolate and painkillers and even a backrub! He rarely got ill himself; was this too much to ask? One little snuggle before bed to warm him up and make him feel better? Hmph.

He let out a large groan, hoping she'd hear and come rushing back to him.

Silence.

He closed his eyes, pursed his lips, folded his arms, and rolled onto his front in a sulk. It was an uncomfortable position to remain in too long, and he chanced a peek over his shoulder to see if she'd arrived. His shoulders sank again when he acknowledged that she wasn't coming back.

He knew he'd been whining a little bit, but seriously. It was nothing compared to her bloody mood swings.

He rolled over, huffing and puffing in frustration and discomfort. Except, he accidently rolled over in precisely the wrong direction. He landed on his back on the hard, non-carpeted floor with a BUMP, and cursed loudly in his native tongue.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Rose mumbled as she cocked open his bedroom door with her hip, carrying a tray with both hands.

"Rose!" he exclaimed delightedly, jumping up off the floor. He immediately regretted it. One, because now he felt very dizzy. He sat down on the bed again, clutching his forehead. Two, because by the looks of things, to go with the lovely bowl of soup she'd brought him, Rose had also paid a visit to the medicine cupboard, and brought along a not-so-lovely bottle of goodness' knows what for him to drink.

Rose set the tray down on his bedside table and removed his hand from his face, replacing it with her own to feel his forehead, checking if he had a temperature. He knew he didn't; in fact, her warm hand on his head warmed him up. When she made to pull her hand away, he stopped her, holding her wrist gently in a request to keep her hand where it was.

Medicine notwithstanding, he was very, very glad Rose had returned. "You came back," he murmured appreciatively.

"Course I did. I was only making you soup, silly," she giggled, sitting down next to him. She dutifully kept her hand on his head. "Now this is a role reversal. Normally, if one of us is ill, it's me with a fever or something and you resting your cool hand on my forehead. Now, you're freezing and want the extra warmth only a human can provide." She winked at him and he chuckled.

"What flavour soup is it?" the Doctor asked apprehensively. He wasn't sure if they made pear soup, but he wasn't taking any chances. If there was any trace of pear in it he was determined to kick up a right fuss.

"Tomato, your favourite."

"With grated cheese on top?" he asked hopefully, perking up a bit.

"See for yourself," she laughed, reaching for the bowl and passing it to him with a spoon.

"It does! Oh, Rose. Thank you," he said gratefully, taking a sip of the soup.

"Now, I know you're going to moan about this, but I found you some medicine. There's no aspirin included, so no worries there. You take a couple of teaspoons now and then a couple in three hours, okay?"

His spoon paused halfway to his mouth as he stared at the offending article. "But I bet it tastes awful," he complained.

"Tough! Now, give me that while you shift backwards on the bed..." She rearranged the covers until he was nice and tucked in, all cosy, and then gave him the tray, his bowl of soup placed back onto it, sitting next to a mug of tea. "Finish this up. And then take the medicine, alright?"

She stood up to leave and he grabbed her hand again. "Can't you stay?" he mumbled quietly.

"I'll be back in a sec," she smiled. "Just gonna get your present."

"I have a present?" he replied eagerly.

"Well. Sort of. You actually own it, so not really. But I thought it might cheer you up."

She popped out of his bedroom for a few incessantly boring minutes, and came back in with an armful of the Harry Potter saga. His eyes widened in enjoyment. "Thanks, Rose," he said softly, as she set them down in a pile on the floor next to his side of the bed. She'd picked up his glasses from where he'd left them in the library, and tucked one of the arms on the neck of her vest top so she wouldn't squash them. He noticed this, and admired the sight for a moment. The weight of the glasses had pulled her top down slightly and he rather liked the little, tiny, slither of a glimpse of black lace bra he could see.

He blinked quickly. This illness must be affecting him far more than he thought, if he was suddenly noticing such things about his dearest friend...

Or...perhaps not. Maybe he always noticed, simply because he fancied her rotten. But the difference was, now he couldn't pretend he hadn't noticed, because she was following the line of his gaze and oh dear, now she'd noticed. She unhooked the glasses and placed them on the bedside table, blushing only slightly as she moved her top back into its rightful position.

He sneezed then. Loudly.

"Bless you," she grinned. "I forgot to bring tissues. You got any in here?"

"Mmhmm — should be some in the drawer," he replied, before sneezing again.

She opened said beside drawer and lifted out the box. "Handy," she commented with a small smile.

"Very," he agreed, and sneezed again, before blowing his nose. "Blimey!"

"Finished?"

"Think so, yeah," he smiled.

"I wonder where you caught it?" Rose mused, sitting herself down next to him.

"Dunno," he shrugged, continuing to eat his soup.

Rose watched him silently for a few minutes, an affectionate smile on her face as he sniffed and coughed and dribbled soup down his chin. He glanced at her and caught her staring.

"What?" he asked.

"You're such a little boy sometimes. It's so cute."

The Doctor wasn't sure whether to be insulted or happy with that statement. After four-point-six seconds he decided on the latter. In fact, he suddenly looked positively chuffed. "You think I'm cute," he grinned cockily.

"Yeah, like as in, a cute little kid who gets his food down him," Rose answered dismissively, unable to meet his gaze.

He wiped his chin absently and set down his tray on the bedside table. He turned back to face her, his knowing grin still firmly on his face. "Yeah. Okay," he said sarcastically. "But admit it, you think I'm cute as in, a cute and rather dashing Time Lord who has swept you off your feet, too, right?"

Rose scoffed loudly. "Whatever."

"Your cheeks are turning pink. That means I'm right," he informed her sagely, leaning closer to her. "I don't mind, you know."

"There's nothing to mind," Rose denied firmly, looking back at him and starting to laugh. "So you can wipe that smirk right off your face!"

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, if you're going to be rude..."

"If I'm going to be rude what?"

"Well," he sniffed. "I won't tell you if I think you are cute or not."

"Doctor, can you please stop using the word 'cute?' It's really starting to get a bit weird."

"What? Why?"

"It just is."

"Which adjective would you prefer me to refer to you as?"

"I really don't care."

"Yes you do," he countered smugly. He shifted down the bed a bit, balancing his head his palm with his elbow digging into his pillow, and he stared up at her. "You are cute, though. When you scrunch up your face when you're confused about something. There's this little crease in your forehead - " He lifted his hand to trace said crease, which, seeing as Rose was feeling very confused at that moment, had made a demonstrative appearance. " — just here. And your nose wrinkles up, just like you're doing now. And you bite your lip, just like that." He pulled his hand away and smiled. "Yep. Very cute. Also: adorable, sweet, silly, lovely, pretty — "

Rose stared at him. "Okay, so now I know you really are ill."

The Doctor sat up straight. "What do you mean?" He sneezed, then, and wiped his nose quickly. "I mean, I know I am ill, too, but that has nothing to do with the fact that I think you're lovely."

She laughed shakily. "Well, you're not usually this...complimentary..."

"I am!" he insisted. At her raised eyebrow he relented, "Well. In my head, I am. I often have very nice, complimentary thoughts about you. I just don't always...say them out loud..."

They looked at each other for a few moments without saying anything. He leant a little closer to her, hoping she'd take pity on him and just pull him into her arms for a cuddle.

Then, Rose abruptly cleared her throat, and pointed towards the bottle of medicine. "I know your game," she chuckled uncertainly. "You're trying to distract me from making you drink your medicine. Come on. Two teaspoons, remember."

He shook his head defiantly. "I'm not trying to distract you and I'm definitely not drinking that."

"Doctor, it'll make you feel better."

"I don't care. Medicine is disgusting. It's always, always disgusting."

"I reckon you'll be pleasantly surprised," Rose smiled. "Look, I'll take a sip, and prove to you that it's okay, all right?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Okaaay..."

Rose unscrewed the lid and poured some of the yellow liquid onto a spoon.

"Eugh, it's yellow," complained the Doctor. "That can't be good. Medicine shouldn't be yellow. Are you sure you want to do this, Rose? You don't have to."

"I don't mind," she insisted, bring the spoon up to her mouth.

His impulsive grasp on her wrist halted her movement. "No, really. You don't have to go through this pain and suffering just for me."

His sincere expression made Rose laugh. "Doctor, this is going to make you feel better, not worse."

He let go of her wrist and harrumphed. "Fine. Drink it. See if I care when you can't get rid of the disgusting taste for the rest of the week."

She shook her head at his silliness and drank the medicine, murmuring appreciatively as she did so.

The Doctor frowned. "What's it taste like?"

Rose widened her eyes theatrically and hugged the bottle protectively to her chest. "Er...nothing..." she fibbed.

"Rose."

"Banana," she enunciated temptingly. "It's really, really nice," she told him seriously. She took a swig from the bottle. "In fact, I might just have this myself..."

"What! No! No, Rose, you can't! You can't drink medicine unless you're actually ill, you know the rules!" he cried, attempting to wrestle the bottle from her hands.

"I don't care, it's too good," Rose teased, lifting the bottle high in the air so he couldn't reach.

He scrambled to his knees and tried to grab the bottle off of her...

...And Rose gave a great yelp as the contents was accidentally tipped all over her hair and face in their playful struggle. "Gah! Doctor! You idiot, look what you've done!" she cried.

The Doctor sat back with an amused grin on his face. "Um...sorry?" he tried, not sounding apologetic in the least.

Rose wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks in a futile attempt at removing the sticky mixture. She looked forlornly at the empty bottle. "Now you don't have any left to drink to make yourself feel better. Are you happy?" she huffed.

He tried not to laugh. "Yes. Yes I am. I am very, very happy."

"I thought you'd like it, though," Rose protested. "I picked the banana flavoured one especially for you, knowing you wouldn't drink any of the others."

The Doctor's smile faded. "What, it actually did taste of banana?" he asked quickly.

"Yes!" she shot back, unimpressed. "What, you didn't believe me?"

"No! I thought you were just being kind and pretending so that I'd drink it!" He grabbed the bottle and peered inside. "Bugger, it really has all gone over you."

"Yep. Well done, Doctor," she said, clapping her hands sarcastically.

He squinted at her in contemplation.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, decidedly not knowing whether to like the way he was looking at her or not.

"Nothing," he replied instantly. There was a pause. "It's just...well. I was just thinking...now that there's two of my favourite things put together in this very tempting way, would it be terribly impolite if I did this?" he asked.

Before she could voice a baffled reply as to what 'this' was, the Doctor seized her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips.

Her hands gripped his arms in surprise and her eyes fluttered closed. She almost kissed him back, but he pulled away before she had a chance. He remained close, though, his mouth hovering over hers as he licked his lips, a small smile curving onto his face. "Mmm. Banana-flavoured Rose..." he murmured. "Gorgeous."

Rose laughed. "You're so daft," she whispered, brushing his nose with hers affectionately. She cringed, then. "And right now, snotty. I've probably caught your cold, now; thanks, Doctor."

"It was worth it though, right?" he chuckled quietly.

"Oh, I dunno about that," she replied.

"You have banana medicine all over your face and neck..." the Doctor observed.

"I'd better clean that up, then, hadn't I?" she countered.

"Yeah," he whispered, his breath ghosting over her lips. "Would you like some help with that?"

"I'm not letting you lick my face like a dog, Doctor," she laughed.

"You'll let me kiss you like a Time Lord, though, right?" he asked hopefully.

"'Like a Time Lord?'" she repeated dubiously. "Did they even do the kissing thing?"

"Well. Sometimes. Occasionally..." he leant closer, their lips almost touching. "Under very. Important. Circumstances."

"Bit selfish of you though, Doctor...giving me all your germs..." she teased.

"We can buy some more medicine."

"And spend the week cuddled up in bed watching Disney films and _Friends_ re-runs feeling sorry for ourselves," she mused.

"You see? So many positives," he grinned. He liked the sound of her idea very, very much.

"Well then. You have put forward a good argument. I s'pose I can't say no. We can be ill together!"

"Just the way it should be," he beamed, and kissed her again.


End file.
